An Encounter Quite Late at Night
by HollowPhoenix
Summary: The bed just wouldn't shut up. But that was the least of their concerns. Rated M, you have a good idea why.


_An Encounter Quite Late at Night_

The night was quiet, and the bed squeaked something awful. Not to mention Cassandra and Varric were light sleepers, and right next door. Their other companions knew nothing but rumors of their relationship at this point. It was pure speculation around Skyhold. This would be a tragic way for them to find out that speculation was true.

"Shh, shh. Dorian, they're going to hear."

"I won't be bothered if they do."

"Maker, Cassandra will have your head and Varric will write a novel about it."

"As long as he writes me just as handsome, and you just as charming, I don't mind."

"Well you _will_ mind if he walks in on us right now."

"Hush, Amatus. No one will hear."

"Dorian.."

He shushed him once more, this time with his lips, his mustache tickling the elf's upper lip. Sarrahel complied, closing his eyes and shutting out all other noises besides his lover's breathing. The night air blowing through the window chilled his bare feet as he lied on top of the bed sheets in only his underclothes. His heart thumped in his chest and he wanted nothing more than for Dorian to get _that_ look in his eyes. He needed him, and as much as the bed wanted to protest with its incessant squeaking, it wasn't nearly a big enough excuse to get them to stop. Hands traveled up his pale arms and floated over the freckles strewn about his skin and gathered around his shoulders. His eyes locked with his lover's, their hearts in sync with one another. Dorian's hand clasped around the Inquisitor's, and his head dipped into his neck to suckle on the skin. The elf's nerves were tickled and sent a chill all throughout his body, a shaky breath leaving his lips. His hand pushed through Dorian's hair and he whispered for him to keep going.

The mage obeyed without hesitation, ghosting his lips over a pale chest and thin stomach. Arriving at his navel, he pressed a kiss above it, almost being able to feel his Amatus' body twitch. Sweat misted over their skin and Lavellan whimpered at Dorian's hesitation. The bed squeaked horrifically as the elf shifted to get his underthings off and onto the floor. He cringed, "Oh, Maker's sake."

"Shh." Another kiss appeared under his earlobe and it sparked his arousal greatly, every tingle that came with each kiss going straight to his lower half.

"Dorian…"

The bed creaked again, a wet tongue gliding over Lavellan's neck. Fingers grazed his arms and their feet intertwined, driving a warmth up and between their bodies.

"Stop teasing me, Vhenan."

An aroused exhale was barely audible over the next screech the bed omitted as Dorian backed up on all fours to kneel between his lover's thighs. Lavellan could barely see the mage's face in the dark, the only thing lighting the room being the moon through the window. But even then, he could swear he saw him smirk in that way he did before he did something he knew drove his lover wild. His right hand grasped the elf's pale hip and drew itself down his leg, gripping him at the ankle gently. He lifted his leg over his shoulder and even in the dark, Lavellan knew he was gazing into his eyes. _Maker be damned, this was good._

Dorian kissed him right above his ankle, and the elf could feel his breath on his legs. " _Fuck, Dorian,_ just take me.." He squirmed on the mattress, and the bed creaked under him. The mage groaned, leaning over him, again pressing his body against him. He kissed his neck, resting his elbows on either side of his head touching the mattress. Lavellan could feel his lover's arousal against his own, and it made him shake. Dorian loved his games, but Sarrahel was too lovesick to keep playing. His body ached and the love bites on his neck were definitely going to show up tomorrow. His hands found his way to the vint's chest and he lightly pushed him away. "You've gotten plenty, now just…" The desperation in his voice was pathetic, he thought. But Dorian had a way of teasing him until he was nearly in tears, begging for it. The hint was taken into consideration, and the elf felt his lover's body shift off of his own. There was a spell of silence momentarily, as Sarrahel breathed in and out, feeling a gentle hand on his thigh.

A whisper of something Tevene was inaudible to the elf, and soon it didn't matter. A loud moan escaped his mouth, and the bed shuddered for only a moment before squeaking again. The heat between them increased as Sarrahel's cheeks and ears turned red and his hand locked itself in his hair. Dorian pushed his shaft inside slowly, even though it was difficult when warmth surrounded him. In what felt like an eternity later, his hips lightly grazed against his partner's thighs. Sarrahel shakily commanded him to move, feeling like he could explode at any given moment. His heart raced and his breath came unevenly, and the squeaking of the bed was almost worthless to him. Fingers explored him in the dark as the thrusts came slowly; patiently. Waiting for him to beg. His whimpers weren't enough to further the process. Dorian _wanted_ to get caught. This was a sin in _some_ elven text somewhere; it had to be. But that just made his lusting worse. Both of his legs were now hooked over his lover's shoulders, and there was a firm grasp on his waist. He was beginning to forget his name, and even common tongue. Elven swears were all he could muster against his moans when Dorian's thrusts began to find rhythm in his heavy breathing and heaving chest. The bed protested, squeaking at a steady pace, but the noise was silenced and put to shame by Sarrahel's breathless moans of _"Vhenan..Vhenan.."_

His pale fingers gripped his own length as he tried his best to gain friction between his legs, but the rocking of Dorian's hips made him weak. Ecstasy swam through his legs and tingled in his toes, his left hand fixed into his auburn locks as he panted and whimpered. He was sure that everyone in southern Thedas was awake to hear them by now. But by the Maker, let them. He hadn't locked the door, and now he was wondering if he'd even closed it. The air was warm around them, and the room smelled of sex, the bed still shrieking underneath them in a pattern that made it obvious to anyone next door that yes, they were definitely having sex.

He laid there, legs spread and now wrapped around Dorian's waist as they fucked in the dark with no limitations, no fancy titles, no Inquisition. Just bodies and raw emotion flowing through them, resulting in heated touches and fingers raking over backs. Small gasps left the elf's mouth in rhythm with his partners thrusts. The mage's hips pressed against his thighs, making sure to see his shaft disappear into the other man every time. Movement came more unevenly at this point, and Sarrahel knew that he couldn't take much more. His head pushed back against the mattress and he moaned, painting stripes of white over his own stomach. Dorian pulled out after a minute or two with no change in his thrusts, leaning back on the bed and being revisited by that awful creaking as he did so. Still drunk off of his lover's sex, Sarrahel followed him, kneeling between his legs to grasp his shaft with one hand, his ring and pinky finger resting against Dorian's stomach. He swallowed the member, humming against it, and bobbing his head slowly. His other hand was busy resting languidly across the mage's midsection, and he could feel him tense as he reached his edge. Dorian's voice projected what the elf could only assume were Tevene slurs that he'd never heard before in his life. He removed the shaft from his mouth and slid his tongue over the base. The hand in his hair balled into a fist and he suddenly felt his partner's rewarding release on his lips. He gripped the sheets and wiped his mouth off, sighing and lying next to his lover as saccharine kisses were planted against his skin.

 _If they had been caught…_ Maker,imagine the novel Varric would write about this; and imagine how it'd be Cassandra's new favorite from the _Swords and Shields_ series until she found out the dwarf's inspiration.

"You never fail to impress, Amatus."

"You aren't too bad yourself."

A thumb drew circles on Sarrahel's shoulder and Dorian's lips pressed onto his forehead and he closed his eyes to sleep. The night was quiet, and finally, so was the damned bed.

* * *

 **I got myself sucked into Dragon Age hell while i was on a horrifically long hiatus and this is what you get**

 **Haha im not dead i just couldn't finish anything for the life of me. This isn't even up to par for me, but i think its ok and i mean who doesnt like pavellan?**


End file.
